


A Rhapsody in Bohemia

by eyemeohmy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, could be slash if you've got your goggles on, drunks singing queen music like idiots, mild violence, stupidsillyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BBC Sherlock. On a drive home from a party, a very drunk Jim starts singing, and orders Sebastian to join him. Some minor chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rhapsody in Bohemia

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this idea and I went with it and this is all for shits and giggles please don't take it too seriously. Apologies for any grammatical, spelling and/or lyric errors.

"You shouldn't. Be driving. You're. Are tipsy."

Sebastian snorted, keeping his eyes on the lamp-lit road ahead. A very drunk Jim sat beside him, tugging at his sleeve. "C'mon," Jim breathed, and the alcohol on his breath was thick, "I'll drive. I'm more. Capable."

"No, you're not. You nutter." Sebastian shoved his hand away. "Though, thank you ever so bloody much for resigning my fate to designated driver another party in a row."

"You-- You weren't even invited! The only reason you even _have_ a buzz is because I kept sneaking drinks out for your ungrateful arse!"

Sebastian wrinkled his nose. His boss was slump in the passenger's seat, eyes lidded and tie all askew. No wrinkles on his suit, not quite yet, but Sebastian was sure that would change before the night was through. Jim attempted to sit up straight, failed and laid there, slouched, sighing. "... Turn on my CD."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You have terrible taste in music, that's why."

"Bollocks! You have _no_ taste!" Jim reached into the CD compartment overhead, removed one shiny disc.

"Jim," Sebastian grumbled, went to stop him, "no--"

"If you want me to shoot the radio, I will shoot the radio," Jim threatened. "If you don't play my CD, you'll have no more radio, and I won't buy you a new system and then you won't get to listen to music _period_. How's that sound? Humm?"

Sebastian knew Jim was unarmed, but... He would probably make due on his threat even sober. He grumbled and Jim giggled, all champagne bubbles, and nearly broke the CD shoving it into the player. It was quiet for a few seconds, and Sebastian glanced aside just to watch Jim practically melt into his seat. Looked about ready to fall asleep. Hopefully. Yet he wasn't sure if Jim was easier to handle drunk or sober...

Well, if he fell asleep, Sebastian could remove the C-- The moment the first notes of the first song played, Jim sat bolt upright and declared, practically to the whole world in the tiny Ford Focus, "Oh, _God_ , yes! This is it, this is it!" He clapped his hands together and Sebastian was highly confused. Then, when the singing started, Jim joined into the chorus.

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality~"

Badly.

Jim was smiling, all drunken bliss. "Open your eyes, look up at the skies and see..." The rest of the lyrics seemed to drown into mumbles and murmurs. Sebastian didn't know if Jim was falling asleep or just forgot the lyrics. Then, suddenly, as the music picked up, Jim sat forward and exclaimed, singing along, "Mamaaaaa! I just killed a maaaaan."

Sebastian was about to comment how he recognized the song now until Jim was pressing a hand and finger gun against his temple. "Put a gun against his heeead, pulled my trigger - _bang_!" - and that nearly had Sebastian jumping - "now he's dead." Jim dropped his hand and sat back, tone falling depressed. "Mamaaaa... life had just begun, but now I've gone and" - he threw out his arms, all dramatics - "thrown it all away! Mamaaaa, o-o-oooo!" He clutched hands to his chest, expression contorted in shame. "Didn't mean to make you crrrrry; if I'm not back again this time tomorrow." He paused, took Sebastian tightly by the shoulder and fixed him with a reassuring look. "Carry oooon, carry oooon, as if nothing really matters..."

"My God," Sebastian laughed, shaking his head. "You have lost your--"

"Too laaaaate," Jim interrupted, singing softly, "my time has come..." He enveloped himself into a tight, ridiculous hug. "Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the tiiiiime." Opened his arms, as if addressing a mass group of people, his followers. "Goodbye, everybody, I've got to goooo. Got to leave you all behind and," voice louder and angry, "face the truuuuuth." He thrust up his fist in misery. "Mamaaaaaa, oooooo, I don't want to diiiiie! I sometimes wish I'd never been born at allll!"

"What the Hell sort of booze were they serving?"

Jim reached out and yanked at Sebastian's sleeve. "You know the song, you know the song!" he exclaimed, so excited. The guitar solo had just started. "Sing with me, sing with me, come on come on come on!"

"No!"

"Sing with me or you're fired and by fired I mean I am going to _light you on fire_."

Well, that seemed convincing enough. Now the beat was picking up. Sebastian could remember the lyrics from here, and Jim quickly pointed at him. That was his cue, he supposed. Stone-faced and eyes on the road, Sebastian half-sang: "I see a little silhouetto of a man--"

"Scaramouche!" Jim exclaimed. "Scaramouche, will you do the fandango!"

Without being ordered, Sebastian chimed in with his boss: "Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me!" Only Jim's voice was more louder, deeper. Until the next part, to which he gave his tone a soft whine: "Galileo!"

Sebastian echoed, more simply: "Galileo."

Twice more, and Sebastian was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Figaro, magnifico--"

"Oooooh!"

Jim made a large, comical frown, looking pathetic. "I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me," he sniffed.

Sebastian countered, still keeping a bored tone: "He's just a poor boy from a poor family." Cleared his throat. "Spare him his life of this monstrosity."

Jim's head nodded to the piano keys, stopped. "Easy come, easy go, will you let me?" he whispered, hands clutched together.

"Bismahwhatever!" Sebastian snapped, forgetting the word - didn't even know what the fuck it was. But he continued, Jim momentarily thrown off by his mistake. "No, we will not let you go!"

Jim's hands in the air with the shriek of his voice. "Let him go!"

"Blah we will not let you go!"

"It's 'bismilah'-- GOOO!"

"Bismioka-- Will not let you go!"

"Let me go!"

In unison: "Never!"

"Never let you go!"

And again and again until Jim pounded his feet, and so did Sebastian with the, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

"Oh, mama mia, mama mia," Sebastian growled, raising a hand, as if he were in a damn opera.

"Mama mia, let me go!" Jim shouted, and quickly got into position. Puffing out chest, back straight, appearing bold and fearless. "Bee~el~ze~bub has a devil put aside for meeeee! For meeeeee!" Took a deep breath. "For meee _eee_!"

Either it was the alcohol, the rhythm, Sebastian wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was the fact Jim was practically thrashing in his seat playing air guitar. No matter what the cause, now Sebastian was bouncing in his seat, beating the steering wheel, playing drums.

Jim pointed over to Sebastian, singing loud and determined: "So you think you can stone me and spit in my eyeeee!?"

Sebastian looked back, expression bitter. "So you think you can love me and leave me to dieeee!?" he snarled right back.

Jim thrust over, Sebastian tilted, and with their heads together, they sang loud and bold and without giving a single fuck in perfect unison. "Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby! Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!" they roared.

However, just as the guitar solo kicked in, they heard the loud shriek of a police siren behind them. Sebastian cursed, while Jim just giggled and turned down the volume. "Pull over," he ordered, one eye squinted. Sebastian frowned but did as commanded, pulling off onto the side of the road. He watched from the rear view mirror as the cop unloaded his car, approached with a grimace on his face.

Sebastian rolled down the window, just as the officer poked his head inside. "Evenin'," Sebastian said, and his breath was enough to alert the officer.

"Evenin'. You know, you were swervin' back there, goin' over the speed limit," the cop stated, "and if my powers of deduction are correct--" He paused to give Jim the stink eye as he cackled over his choice of words. When Jim settled, he continued, "You've been drinkin' a bit too much to be drivin', don't you think?"

"No, no, not nearly enough," Sebastian snorted, as if he were offended. "It takes more than a few bottles of ruddy wine to get me drunk."

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm gonna have to ask you for your--"

"What have you against Queen, Mr. Plod?" Jim suddenly blurted. The officer blinked, gave him a weird look. "So rude. You interrupted one of their greatest performances. You've nearly killed my buzz on top of it as well. How inconsiderate of you. Your mum raise you to be so insolent?"

The cop frowned. "Sir, I'm not--"

"Pressure!" Jim sang, swinging his fingers to and fro. "Pushing down on meee!"

"Will you please--"

"Pressure on people," Jim continued, reaching behind his seat, "people on the streets." And before the officer could ask him to kindly shut the Hell up, Jim cocked the small handgun and with a click, fired. Sebastian was quick enough to thrust back into his seat, the bullet and smoke whizzing past him. A point blank hit, the cop fell to a heap on the ground, dead. Jim lowered the gun, putting it back on safety.

Sebastian turned and looked at his boss, awed and shocked. Blood flecked and splattered against the side of his face. "... _What_." He wiped some of it away, smearing more of the blood down his cheek in the process.

"I knew my aim was perfect, you were fine." Jim waved to the road before them. "Best we get going. Sort of bad if we hung around here too long, you know? Hmm hmm kicked my brains 'round the floor..."

Sebastian was still in a state of shock, but did as instructed. He cast the poor chap on the ground outside a feigned look of pity before taking off, leaving behind clouds of dust and dirt. He decided not to say anything; he wasn't afraid, truth be told. If there was any way they could connect the cop's murder with Jim, they'd slither easily out of the justice system's poor hold. So he smiled and forgot that his face was probably covered in gun residue and cop blood from the bullet that flew just ten inches past his head.

Jim backtracked the song from where they left off before being so rudely interrupted. The guitar solo was ending, and the music was soft, melancholy.

"Nothing really matters," Jim sighed, folding hands over his lap. "Anyone can see." He leaned aside, resting his head against Sebastian's shoulder. "Nothing really matters," yawned, closed his eyes, snuggled a little, "nothing... really..." He was fast asleep before he could finish.

Sebastian looked down at his boss. Smiled and gave him a pat on the head. "Any way the wind blows," he hummed, and continued the drive home in peaceful silence.

\---

END

**Author's Note:**

> Before/after shooting the cop, Jim was singing lyrics from Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie.


End file.
